The Weirdo on Park Avenue
by AmiRide
Summary: Nick's gotten off to a rocky start with Max, who happens to be in all of his classes and his tutor. Meanwhile, Max is having relationship issues with her boyfriend Dylan, and her cousin Iggy's trying to romance her half-sister, Ella, who has a giant crush on Gazzy, who likes Nudge. Also, Angel is on a quest to find Nick's Perfect Other Half... all part of the mess we call life. FAX
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Yay! A new story at three in the morning! I'm such a creeper!**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

"Hey, Max," Ella called as I trotted down the stairs, frosting a cupcake

"Hey, Ells," I said, jumping onto the counter to frost my own cupcake.

"What are you going to do today? Monique and I are going to the mall to catch a movie, wanna come with?"

"I'm going to meet Dylan at the park, and J.J. and I are going bowling afterwards." I hated turning down Ella, but I had plans. And I'd already blown off Dylan twice this week.

"Oh, okay," said Ella, always too cheerful to be disappointed.

"How much time before Mom comes back?" I asked, taking a bite out of a cookie from the cookie jar in the back.

"She's going to be out until two, so we have to stay here until then. We get paid, though." Ella's eyes glittered with the prospect of buying the expensive paints that were only accessible at Structure and Shadow, the best art store all around.

"Cool," I said, picturing myself blowing my money on gum and hairbands, as usual. Mom had been smart, opening this bakery. Her desserts were delicious, and we always had business. I shook back my wet hair, looking for something to tie it with. There was a reason I was always buying hairbands.

"Max, don't," Ella instructed, steering me away from the pastries. "You'll get the food all wet."

I made a face and stole a hairband from her wrist.

"Oh look, a customer," Ella said, retying her apron and going back to the counter to serve the newcomer.

"Hello, how can I help you?" She gave him a huge grin reserved for only for customers, and only for cute customers at that. And this guy was cute. Very cute.

"Hey," he said, grinning lopsidedly. "Could I get a box of cupcakes? Pink, it's for my little sister."

"Aww," said Ella, smiling. "Sure."

"Thanks," he said. "I'm Sam, by the way."

"Ella," my sister said. I smiled at the chemistry between them. They were still just smiling at each other when I returned with the box of cupcakes.

"Hey, you know, we could write her name on those if you want," Ella suggested.

"Free," I pitched in cheerfully, hoping that Ella would score a date. It had been so long since she had accepted one of the many offers she received.

"I—" Sam turned to me and his eyes widened, as if I hadn't been standing there the whole time. He blushed.

"Uh, that would be, um, great. Thanks." He looked away, still blushing.

I may not have been the most perceptive person in the world, but my vision was impeccable. I could tell his eyes were on my chest and not on Ella's.

One of the biggest mysteries of the world was the question of why guys didn't immediately fall for Ella. As prettier, funnier one, nicer sister, she was ten times more likely than me to be asked out. She collected numbers the way I ate Twinkies before they went out of business. She never called most of them. And when she finally did like a guy, he went and asked me out instead. It never failed to befuddle me.

"What's her name?" Ella asked. Sam stared at me for a few seconds, then his gaze snapped back to Ella.

"Whose name?" He asked dazedly.

"Your sister's." A grin tugged at the corner of Ella's mouth.

"Oh, right. Celeste," he said.

"Cool," I cut in abruptly. "I'll do it, Ells."

"Really?" Ella looked doubtful. "Your handwriting is terrible."

"I've practiced," I lied.

"It's okay, I'll do it," Ella said, oblivious that this guy's stare was aimed at me rather than at her.

"Okay," I grumbled. I made a big show of not looking at Sam.

"Sooo…" he trailed off. I didn't answer. "You want to go on a date sometime?"

"I've got a boyfriend," I said frigidly.

"Oh. Oh, I'm sorry," he said, looking away.

I almost glared at him when I heard him ask Ella the exact same question when she returned with the cupcakes. She accepted, being the softie that she is.

"Hey, Ella," I said once the guy had left, "Do you mind if I leave early? I've got a date with Dyls." I attempted to give her the Bambi eyes, but judging from the look of amused revulsion on her face, it must have looked more like a creeper stare.

She laughed, blinking rapidly as if trying to rid her eyes of the vision. "Go. Buy the way, you suck at the Bambi eyes. Only Monique can do them properly."

I stuck my tongue out at her, grabbed my bag, and left.

* * *

They were after me. Again.

"Nick!" Lissa shouted, spotting me. She started to flounce over. I considered my options, but came to the sad conclusion that it was too late to bolt. I was about to grudgingly return the greeting when I noticed the girl sitting on the bench behind me, alone. I sat down next to her.

"Hey," I said, flashing her a small smile.

"Hi," she said pleasantly. She didn't look like one to initiate conversation, so I decided it was up to me to look occupied.

"What's up?"

"I'm waiting for my—" I missed the rest of her sentence as I saw Lissa looking around, and quickly took the girl's hand. She extricated it, looking alarmed.

Agh. If she had been Andi, a girl who went to my old school, she would have thrown herself at my neck. If she had been Christa Taylor, she would have smiled shyly and squeezed my hand. If she had been Tara Corey, she would have laughed and kissed my cheek. Heck, even Candy Decker, all-around mean girl, would have stuck her tongue out at me, and even that could have been turned to look like a gesture of affection if I played my cards right.

But she wasn't any of these girls, and I think her alarm had less to do with thinking I was repulsive than the fact that she had no clue who I was. And even though I wasn't generally a people person, right now I would have given my left arm to know this girl, and not just because she was pretty. I looked around worriedly, to see if Lissa had noticed. She hadn't but she immediately spotted me, smiled flirtatiously, and started over, her heels clacking.

I actually, I wouldn't have given my left arm, because it was with that arm that, on a moment of pure whim, I grabbed the girl on the bench and kissed her.

I regretted it immediately. There were so many other things I could have done. I could have asked her to play along. I could have just continued talking to her and eventually casually put my arm around her. I could have hovered behind her and, since Lissa was too far away to hear us, pretended to be deep in conversation. I could have even kissed her anyways, but without letting her know who I was—the classic "guess who?" with my hands over her eyes, followed by a kiss where she wouldn't open them any way, assuming I was her boyfriend ( a girl as pretty as her had to have one). But no, as it was, I had to go with the stupidest alternative.

Her eyes widened in alarm and she tried to push me off, but I held her close and didn't let go. Lissa's eyes widened in shock and then in anger. She hissed something into her cell phone, flipped her red hair, and stormed off dramatically.

I kept the girl in my hold until I was sure Lissa could no longer see us. It wasn't really a kiss. Our lips were hard, unmoving, and pressed together, and the only reason it looked believable was because I still had an arm around her waist that kept her from running away and one at her neck that made it seem like she was kissing me back. Even the movements she made to get me off of her looking like she was running her hands through my hair. My eyes were half-shut, trying to make it look as believable as possible, but hers were wide open. I hoped Lissa hadn't noticed.

I let go of her as soon as Lissa's red mane disappeared from my line of vision. The girl tried to bolt. I grabbed her arm.

"Let go of me!" she shouted.

"Look, I'm sorry," I said apologetically.

The girl stared at me blankly.

I sighed. "I'm trying to get away from this girl that won't leave me alone."

"Um, okay? So?"

I struggled with the words, trying to form my sentence so that my ideas came through the right way. "She's annoying and bitchy and she won't take a hint." Agh. Adjectives. "I just figured if she saw me with someone, she would back off. Sorry."

"Whatever. Let go of me." Her dark eyebrows were drawn together angrily.

"Come on," I said halfheartedly. "Can't we just start over? I'm Nick." I looked at her, half hoping that by some twisted miracle she would actually forgive me.

"I'm a girl who doesn't care who your name is, nice to meet you." She wrenched her arm away from my grip and sprinted off, her blond hair flying behind her.

_Yeah, didn't think so. _I flopped down on the bench, half relieved and half annoyed at having made yet another enemy in this tiny town.

At least it got Lissa off my back.

* * *

I fumed. I shot off spikes of anger dipped in pure outrage and topped with hatred. Smoke poured from my ears. _Who does that guy think he is?_

After running down to the park, I had waited for my boyfriend Dylan to show up. I remembered the scene perfectly, seeing as it had happened less than five minutes ago. Music poured from a nearby café, and the smell of coffee drifted from its windows, wafting in the warm air. A light breeze wove through my hair. It was five minutes before Dylan could officially be late. I'd smiled smugly at the triumph of finally being the early one.

Then this guy sat down next to me. He was passably—who am I kidding?—_very _good-looking. "Hey," he said.

"Hi," I said pleasantly. It wasn't uncommon for joggers to stop and sit down for a few minutes, making small talk and getting some rest and water before setting off again. It was one of the things I liked most about this park: the friendliness, the feeling that you knew everyone there even if you'd never seen them before.

"What's up?" he said, tying his shoelace.

"I'm waiting for my boyfriend," I told him. "He should be getting here about now. You?"

He didn't answer, instead glancing behind him. His eyes widened in alarm. Before I could ask what was wrong, he took my hand. I extricated it quickly, looking at him worriedly. Was something wrong? I considered offering him some of my water—he looked worried enough to be on the brink of death. And then, suddenly, without warning, he leaned forward, cupped the back of my neck, and kissed me.

I tried to scream, but the sound was muffled against his lips. What if he was a rapist? What if he was a kidnapper? Maybe he was just a really hormonal teenager.

Whatever. I had no desire whatsoever to be the plaything of a sex-craved seventeen-year old.

I struggled to slip out of his hold. One of his arms was drawing my waist to him, and I squirmed to get away. I finally abandoned the slipping-away tactic and instead clawed at his neck to get his mouth away from mine.

Maybe he _was_ a rapist.

I tried to comfort myself with the thought that no rapist would kiss like this, his mouth tight and firm and unmoving against mine, his eyes half-open, darting around. And I tried to reassure myself that maybe he wasn't a hormonally-challenged high school senior. He wasn't greedy or sloppy or even moving at all. But still, I didn't want to kiss some random guy whose name I didn't know and who wouldn't let me go.

I started to wonder if he would _ever_ let me go.

Dylan's face swam before my eyes, disappointed and distressed. His blue eyes were puppy-dog sad. No trace of anger. Just sorrow.

_Well, it's not like I _want _to be kissing this weirdo!_

When he finally let go, I decided to skip the kicking-him-in-the-groin part and just ran away before he could get hold of me again.

Unfortunately for me, he was a lot faster than I thought he was. He grabbed my wrist.

"Let go of me!" I half-shouted, half-yelped. His grip was a strong as steel.

"Look, I'm sorry," he apologized.

And then he had the nerve to expect one sentence to fix everything.

He sighed. "I'm trying to get away from this girl that won't leave me alone."

"Um, okay? So?" _Yeah, so this girl likes me. I'll just go kiss some random girl that I saw in the park. That makes sense._

He hesitated, seemingly trying to find the right words. "She's annoying and bitchy and she won't take a hint. I just figured if she saw me with someone, she would back off. Sorry."

"Whatever. Let go of me." I snapped. Who cared about whether he didn't like some random girl? Not me. Rapist.

Then I dashed away from him.

I turned back to see him flop down on the bench, his face twisted in an expression that conveyed a mixture of relief and something else I couldn't quite place.

_Sucks for you, loser!_

Then I realized that I had blown Dylan off for the third time this week.

_Crap_tastic. This day just kept getting better.

* * *

**DRAMADRAMADRAMADRAMA AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH**

**Review if you dare, and even if you don't!**

**Until next time!**

**~Ami****


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hi! How are you guys?**

**Don't worry, I haven't forgotten about this story. Thanks for all who reviewed and followed. I love you guys!**

**ENJOY, ALL YOU LITTLE PEOPLE OUT THERE (AND ALSO YOU TALL PEOPLE)! **

* * *

Buzz.

Buzzz.

Buuuuuuuuuzzzzzzzzzz.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket as I plopped down in a chair at Starbucks.

"Max?"

I rested my head on the counter and sighed.

A guy walked over to me. Leaning down, he started to say something about not using phones in this facility or something like that, but I waved him off.

"Hey Dylan," I said into my phone, already feeling the guilt sink in.

"Where were you today?" He sounded hurt.

"I'm so, so sorry, Dyl! I had to"—I needed to think of something quick—"run the bakery with Ella today. Mom was out." Aha! I mentally gave myself a pat on the back for thinking of a valid excuse. And it was even true, almost! "Oh, Dylan, I'm so sorry."

"It's okay, Max." Dylan sounded slightly weary. "I'm driving home now; I'll stop by on my way there. We still on for tonight?"

"Yup!" I said cheerfully, happy that he had forgiven me for what had to be the thirtieth time this week. I made a mental note to cancel my plans with J.J. and move them to tomorrow. Nope, that was a lie. Tomorrow was a skating day with Nudge. Saturdays were when I spent the most time with J.J. I'd move our plans to then.

"Love you, babe," said Dylan.

"Bye, Dylan," I said in the most loving voice I could. He'd said he loved me several times, but for some reason I just couldn't bring myself to say it back. He sighed over the phone.

"Someday, huh?"

"Soon, I promise," I assured him. "Bye, Dylan."

"Bye."

I hung up and saw the man from before, the one I had waved off, hovering over me.

"Sorry ma'am," he said nervously, "but you violated our policy. I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"If I order a small coffee, will you go away?" I said irritably, feeling nasty at that particular moment in time. He looked taken aback.

"Um…"

"A small coffee then. Bye."

He looked like he didn't know what had hit him. It could have been a plane or a truck or a blonde teenager. I felt a little guilty. I wasn't usually nasty to people. At least not to that extent. At least not when I didn't know them.

I turned back to my phone, a present I'd gotten from Uncle James. He and my cousin Jeff had pooled some money to get it for me. Then I realized that I had already hung up, and put the phone back in my pocket.

I reclined in my chair. I couldn't believe I'd blown Dylan off three times, this week alone. It crossed my mind that Dylan must really love me to put up with me. I never ceased to wonder what about me Dylan loved so much. I knew my personality, besides having a weakness for beauty and my whole defender-of-the-week complex, didn't have much to offer. I was kind of annoying, had a big temper, and was selfish. My looks weren't it either. Dylan could have any girl he wanted, from sweet Kate Strong to beautiful Lissa Cliffe. I wasn't much. I was on the tall side, lean and fit from running on the track team, but that and my permanent Arizona tan were all that my physique had to offer. For the rest, I had long, pee-colored hair, boring brown eyes and a smattering of freckles that wouldn't go away no matter how hard I tried. I wasn't overly shapely, and my skin wasn't pale and creamy like Brigid Dwyer's. My freckles weren't, at least, a bright orange, but they weren't the beautiful toasted-brown sprinkled across Lissa's delicate nose. And I had big feet. Huge feet.

But Dylan on the other hand, was a great guy. He was sweet and smart and adorable. He wasn't worried about talking about feelings the way other guys were, and instead went out of his way to tell me every single thing that was on his mind. It was really a shame that he had ended up with the one girl who didn't like that sort of thing. I could still appreciate his glimmering turquoise eyes, his wavy, dark-honey-colored hair, and his killer smile. He never questioned anything I did, and always supported me in anything. I knew that I loved him. Why couldn't I tell him?

I still lost sleep over that one.

I shuddered, trying to call Dylan's symmetrical face to mind instead of the one that kept popping up in my head of Sir Park Wierdo.

I was interrupted in my inner angst/turmoil/daydreaming by a thump on the table.

"Here's your small black coffee, ma'am," said Starbucks Man. I stared at him.

"Small coffee? I don't want coffee," I said, bewildered.

"Uh, you ordered a small—"

"But I don't want coffee," I protested.

"But ma'am"—I _hated _it when people insisted on calling seventeen-year-olds 'ma'am'—"you said—"

"But I don't want it," I said. Coffee? What?

"But it says right here that you—"

"What part of go away do you not understand?" I huffed. His face took on a determined look.

"Listen, ma'am—"

"I DON'T WANT IT!" I yelled at him. He cowered, and I rested my head on the table again. When had I ordered a small black coffee?

Why did my insides feel as if they were knotted up, twisted so that all of my words came out wrong and I felt emotions I had no cause to feel?

I felt a tap on my shoulder.

"Sorry, ma'am, but we're going to have to ask you to leave. Shouting is not tolerated in this establishment." I looked up to see a portly man with a mustache in a suit. I was about to give him a piece of my mind, when I realized he must be the manager, and I'd probably never be allowed to come back to Starbucks if I punched him.

With a huff, I marched out. Collapsing on a bench, I let out a deep exhalation of annoyance.

What was their problem? What was my problem? I'd never ordered coffee.

It was at that exact second that I remembered that I had ordered a small coffee.

And they had even made it black, the way I liked it.

What was wrong with me? Why was I so…gauche?

I hadn't remembered because I was thinking about Dylan and Sir Park Wierdo.

And I'd just gotten kicked out of Starbucks.

All because of some stupid boy that I'd never met before today.

I screamed in exasperation, not caring that a couple of pigeons were giving each other the 'she's crazy' look.

* * *

A melody floated out of a nearby café, accompanied by the smell of coffee and a small breeze that ruffled my hair. It reminded me of the tune my best and only friend here, Iggy, loved to whistle.

Iggy had moved here last year, and before had gone to Rivendell High School in California with me. It had been a tortuous few months until I had started dating a girl named Tess, who was sweet and pretty and everything you'd want in a girl, except for the fact that she had the worst singing voice I'd ever heard, and I teased her constantly about it. We didn't have much in common, but she loved to talk, so she filled my silences with chatter that was hard to keep up with. I didn't like talking very much, but she hadn't noticed and constantly asked me to talk to her, to tell her stories, to give her advice on dresses, and, worst of all, talk about _feelings._ I hadn't minded. I'd liked Tess, with her short brown hair and green eyes. But talking had never been my strong point.

It was by pure chance that exactly a year later, last week, I'd moved to exactly the same town Iggy had moved to. Having been best friends with him since kindergarten, we were both happy. I'd had to leave Tess behind, but by that point our relationship had already started forming cracks. Getting Iggy back, though, was great. It was as if he'd never left. I wasn't excited for the first day of senior year, tomorrow, but having my best friend by my side made the whole thing seem less tortuous than it could have been.

I walked into Starbucks for coffee when I ran into an overturned table.

"Whoa, what happened here?"

"A girl shouted at one of the waiters and got kicked out," explained a small elfin girl who was clearing another table. "Don't worry about it."

It struck me as funny that the only Starbucks in this small town had waiters. What kind of Starbucks had waiters? It occurred to me, not for the first time, that this town was very, very…high-end.

I nodded uncertainly and sat down. "Can I get a small coffee?"

The girl expertly maneuvered the couple of trays she was carrying and nodded. "Sure. In fact, I've got one fresh and ready for you. Funny, isn't it?" She handed me a small cup filled with coffee—black, the way I liked it.

"Thanks," I said, surprised. I sank into the armchair, enjoying the warmth of the coffee, which only added the warmth of Arizona August but for some reason seemed to untangle a knot I'd seemed to form in my stomach.

I wondered how the girl at the park liked her coffee.

_Random thought, go away, come again another day,_ I sang in my head. I wondered if I were going crazy.

Judging by the look my coffee cup was giving me, I was.

* * *

Check watch. Run a few miles. Check watch. Run a few miles.

This pattern wasn't particularly fun, but I had to do it to get to the bakery in time. I'd realized that I'd told Dylan that I was at the bakery, and he'd said he'd drop by—five minutes ago. I needed to speed up.

I increased my speed and added a few new things to the pattern.

Check watch. Run a few miles. Check if phone is still there. Look out for people. Check watch. Run a few miles. Check if phone is still there. Look out for people. Stop thinking about the Weirdo on Park Ave—Ag.

That thought again. When would it stop harassing me?

I burst through the doors of Arizona Sunshine, by far the most successful bakery in town. Ignoring the stares, I rushed to the back room and hastily shrugged off my hoodie and tied my apron around my waist.

"Max?" Ella poked her head through the door.

"If anyone asks, I was here the whole time," I warned Ella. She sighed. She had learned not to ask.

"Okay."

I sighed in relief and thanked the Lord for deodorant. Pulling my hair into a ponytail that made it look as if I hadn't just run (roughly) seven miles in ten minutes, I hastily applied some lip gloss.

"But he's already here," Ella added before she conveniently disappeared to the front.

It was so like her to leave a thought like that hanging in the air.

I winced as he walked in. Expecting an ambush of accusations, I quickly went over my mental inventory of excuses.

_I was in the bathroom?_ Nope.

_I had to run an errand?_ Nope.

_I was out buying more flour?_ Hmm…maybe.

I didn't have time to stroll through the aisle of more plausible excuses in my mental excuse shop, because someone was crushing me in a hug.

I recognized the smell of cologne. It was sweet, it was perfect, it was … Dylan.

I smiled up at him and he leaned down to plant a kiss on my lips. Then I remembered I was supposed to be in trouble.

"I was out buying more flour?" It came out as a question.

He grinned. "It's okay, Max. I know how scatterbrained you are. Don't worry about it."

"Scatterbrained?" I said indignantly. He grinned again.

"Want to move our dinner date to a lunch date?"

"Yes," I said, forgetting about everything else. "I mean, no," I corrected myself. "I've got to finish my bakery shift until Mom comes back. Then we can go."

"Okay," he agreed. "Come back if you change your mind." He smiled at me.

I grinned and picked up a tray of cupcakes with an expert hand. I'm If I were the epitome of all things annoying, at least I was coordinated. Walking into the shop, I set them down on the back counter and began putting them one by one in the glass case.

I heard the 'ding' of a bell.

"Ella! Could you get that?" I shouted to the back room where Ella had mysteriously disappeared.

"I HAVE TO PEE!" she shouted back. I shook my head.

"How can I help you?" I asked the guy at the counter. He flipped his blond hair to the side in a way that reminded me of that dude that Ella was obsessed with, Justin Beaver or Justin Believer or something like that.

"I'll have one of those," he decided, pointing to the monster cookies in the display case. He looked up and smirked. "And one of those," he said, gesturing to something that was apparently on my face.

"I'm sorry, what?" I asked, confused.

"One of those," he repeated, looking me up and down. I almost reddened when I realized what he meant.

"Can you not do that? It's a little offending," I said matter-of-factly, unfazed.

"It seems to have worked," he smirked.

I frowned at him. "It didn't," I said flatly. "Take your cookie and go away."

"Cash or credit?" Ella said. I spun around. Apparently having reappeared out of nowhere, Ella had wrapped his monster cookie and was waiting for the money.

"Credit," the guy said. He took out a shiny credit card and swiped it with a flourish. Signing the paper, he shoved it at me, smirked and walked out. I noticed he was wearing an oversized hoodie and a cap. Wasn't that what all the Justin Believer wannabes wore? It seemed that Ella's last boyfriend had been clothed in similar attire.

Dylan appeared to help Ella tie her apron back. He kissed her cheek affectionately. Ella laughed.

It kind of annoyed me when he did things like that. Being clingy was a quality that, thankfully, I did not possess, but I couldn't help thinking that any other girl would be livid with jealousy right now.

"Some weird guy hit on me," I said conversationally to Dylan. "It was annoying."

He laughed and slipped his arm around me. "Why shouldn't he? You're beautiful, Maxie."

"Don't call me Maxie," I protested for what had to be the fiftieth time.

"Okay. And I don't own you, so there's no reason he shouldn't think you're pretty. After all, he isn't blind, is he?" He nuzzled my neck. "Is he? No. You're gorgeous."

And just like that, Dylan made everything make sense. I accepted his warm kiss.

"Plus," he added. "Girls hate it when guys are possessive."

I had to agree with that one.

* * *

"I'm home," I called to no one in particular as I slammed the garage door shut.

"Hey, honey," said Mom from the living room. "Where were you?"

"At the park," I said.

"With Jeff?" Jeff was Iggy's real name.

"Nah, Jeff's babysitting his friend's little brother."

"With that girl?"

"Which one?"

"Someone's a lady's man," my mom teased, poking my side.

"Mom," I whined. She held her hands up.

"All right, I get it. It's not cool. I won't do it anymore." She smiled and picked up a moving box labeled "Photo Albums," and I trudged to my room.

"Hi, Nick," said a little voice from behind me. A blond head was poking its way out of my little sister Angel's room.

"Hey, Ange!" I said, picking her up. "How are you?"

"I'm good," she said. "Celeste is coming over for a playdate later."

"That's great, cupcake." Angel was seven, but wise beyond her years. She had a way, something that may have been in the tilt of her head, the glimmer in her eyes, the lilt to her voice, that made you think she knew exactly what you were thinking.

"You seem sad. Did something happen when you were at the park?"

Like that, for example.

Her"No, Angel. Everything's okay."

"No, it's not," she decided calmly. She tilted her head slightly to the side. "It was those girls again, wasn't it?" Her blue eyes were searing into my soul, searching for the truth. "It was, wasn't it? That girl, the one with the red hair."

I never remembered mentioning that Lissa had red hair and wondered how she knew.

"Yeah," I admitted quietly. "It's over now, though, okay? It's over now."

"Okay!" she said cheerfully, showcasing her strange ability to bound from deep and understanding to hyper and childish. "I'm going to go play dollhouse, wanna come?"

"Uh, I think I'll pass." I put her back down and planted a kiss atop of her blond curls.

"Bye!" She skipped back to her room.

I flopped down on my bed and started tossing a basketball. It was signed by a bunch of people who were at Iggy's eleventh-grade party. I went over the signatures. The gruff, hasty _Ari_ on the top of the ball, the flowery _Tess Richmond_ next to it, her I's dotted with hearts, the surprisingly neatly scrawled _Jeff_ on the very bottom. There were a bunch of others. The bubbly _Maya_, the script of the name _Monique_ signed with a flourish. Star, Ratchet, Kate, Holden, and countless others.

And then one last name. Max. It filled one whole side of the ball, in huge letters that were all lowercase. In the 'A' was a pair of sketched wings.

I'd stared at that signature a lot, wondering why in the world someone would sign their name so big on something for someone they didn't even know. It never failed to confuse me. I wondered who Max was and how he had learned to draw so well in Sharpie. I remembered Iggy mentioning once or twice that he had a cousin named Max, but why would Iggy's cousin be there? If he and Max had the same relationship as me and my cousins, he wouldn't let him anywhere near his party.

"You think so?" I could hear Angel's dollhouse tea party from my room. The thin wall that separated us wasn't very effective. Our rooms had been meant to be one room, but they had built a wall in between us when Angel was born.

"Yeah, me too," Angel said to her doll. There was a pause. "One day, Nick will find his princess. I know it. I bet she'll be as pretty as you."

_What?i_

"Tess? No, I didn't like Tess. You think she was Nick's princess?"

Pause.

"No way. Nick's princess would be perfect."

I leaned closer toward the wall and fell off my bed. I straightened, but the loud thump had thrown Angel off her conversation and she instead pretended that she and her doll were secret agents trying to find the source of the loud noise.

My princess? What did she mean? I shook my head and went back to tossing the basketball on my bed.

* * *

**I cannot express how much I love all of you who review. Seriously. You guys are all rock stars.**

**Bye!**

**~Ami****


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